


Feel Alive

by StarrStatic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Reader, is it undertones or light...?, let me know if i'm missing tags please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 09:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarrStatic/pseuds/StarrStatic
Summary: After the revolution, Connor is still a detective and life is good. He has his freedom, and you. But he steps out late at night for a crime scene, as he often does, and it bears grim reminders.Not wanting your favorite android to feel too gloomy, you distract him, reminding him how good it is to be so alive.





	Feel Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfilling a tumblr request for trans male reader topping Connor  
> (This is not related to Upgrades, this is a separate request)

Somewhere in your groggy mind, you registered the front door opening and shutting quietly, heard the shuffle of shoes in the doorway before the person responsible removed them. They came more quietly after that. You blinked awake and looked up in time to see Connor poke his head into the bedroom. “Hey,” you called quietly, stretching and scooting back to your side of the bed.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Connor asked as he sat to remove his uniform, the mattress dipped beneath his weight and pulled your frame closer.

“’s fine,” you told him and yawned. It was still much too early for the sun to make an appearance, but in the city the street lamps seemed determined to invade the bedroom no matter what curtains you hung. He cut a striking figure in the twilight-like lighting. His jacket was somewhat reminiscent of the ones you saw in photos from over three years ago, when the back listed the only three designations that seemed to matter to some people at that time. Android, RK800, Connor.

But now he was so much more. Fully autonomous with equal rights and a new last name (Anderson. Thanks ~~Connor’s Dad~~ Hank). He kept the cut and style, the turquoise luminescence (though more subtle), the calm and neutral tones. Except for the tie. You loved to buy him stupid or silly ties, and he loved to wear them. They were still tasteful, still professional, but if you squinted… they were really, really dumb. Seeing for yourself how mad Hank got at your taste in neckties was deeply satisfying. Though you’d be willing to bet even Hank found them charming. Today’s tie was navy blue with wine colored paisley, little crabs and lobsters hiding in the pattern. A goofy, sleepy smile tugged at your lips.

Connor caught the direction of your gaze and smiled back. “He hated it,” he informed you as he slid the necktie from its knot and let the ends drape on either side of his neck.

“Good,” you laughed, your voice hoarse from sleep.

Finally Connor stripped down to his underclothes, heather gray boxers and a plain white tank top. He tilted his head and half turned to look at you, fingers brushing across your throat, eyes flicking to yours and away. His LED had gone yellow, an eclipse of deep thought over the moment in the darkness of your bedroom.

You grabbed his hand and laced your fingers with his. “Bad one tonight?” you asked.

He nodded, but said nothing further. Then, quietly, “I’m glad we’re alive… You. And me.” He seemed as though he had something more to say but the words didn’t come.

Wrapping your other arm around his waist, you dragged him down into the bed with you and he let you. “Don’t think about that,” you told him. “I’m fine, and you’re fine, and there’s nothing to worry about right now. When there is, we’ll worry about it then.  Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed and pressed closer to you, his systems noting the change in temperature as his forehead touched yours briefly. You ran your fingers through his hair, forefinger tracing the loop of the one curly, defiant strand, and he closed his eyes to bask in your touch.  He wouldn’t trade his humanity for anything, but he wished sometimes the gruesomeness of some crime scenes was as easily compartmentalized as his pre-deviant days. Especially now that he had you.

He never wanted to see you hurt, or in danger – especially not because of him. He knew what it was like to stand against the world. Remembered the short period of time where he was wanted by neither humans nor androids and having to go on anyways, to find his way. He didn’t even have to wonder if he’d do something like that all over again, if you were the one at stake this time.

No need to deconstruct the evidence, no probabilities to calculate.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” he heard your bemused voice.

“I’m not,” he lied. He hadn’t meant to worry you.

“You _are_ ,” you insisted, tapping his now red LED. “Hey, I know, I had a thing I was trying to remember today and I looked it up. And you know your little spit curl?”

Connor felt your fingers pushing through his hair again. It felt… comforting. “Mmh,” he hummed.

“Apparently it used to be called a _kiss_ curl,” you told him, playing with the deviant curl at his temple. A smile found its way on his face again. He started to say something but you tugged at his scalp, the only warning before your mouth sealed to his. You pressed feather light, then firmer but just as tender as he reciprocated. It was a welcome distraction, and Connor didn’t hesitate to part his lips and invite you in. You happily obliged, tongue chasing and teasing until you let your teeth graze his bottom lip, grinning when he had to break away and vent some of his heat, a telltale whirring sounding faintly from within him.

You threw your leg over his hip and rolled the two of you so you were on top. Connor’s eyes tracked from your hands on his chest, up to the building muscle of your arms, past your boxers, past your bare chest, and up to lock onto the shit-eating grin on your face.

“You know what they say about all work and no play?” you asked.

A smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”

“Smart mouth!”

“You love it.”

“I love _you_.”

This gave Connor pause and you watched as he positively melted, looking too sweet for his own good. “I also love you.”

“I should hope so,” you teased and leaned down for another kiss, deeper this time, wanting to claim his mouth and anything else you could get your greedy mitts on. Your hands roamed over his abdomen and you brushed your thumbs over his pecs, humming when he squirmed. You pulled away panting, absentmindedly rubbing your groins together. He felt at least half hard. “You maybe feel like…?”

“Yes,” he groaned, his hands sinking into the flesh of your thighs as he continued the wonderful friction.

You wasted no time and let him help you out of your underwear before you pulled his down far enough for him to get a leg free, and that was enough. Too impatient. You lightly slapped his hand away from trying to correct the asymmetry and pushed his arms up, enjoying the graceful arcs they made over his head. He knew this game so he didn’t move, smirking instead as you pushed up the hem of his tank next. Medium tone, medium definition, and a few scatterings of freckles across the planes of his build. You traced the angular curve of his hip with two fingers down to his groin, but you didn’t touch, instead teasing the soft skin there. His dick bobbed in the air, tapping against your stomach now and again. His hair was a bit messed, face flushed as you admired the view. “Looking good, Connor.”

The drag of his eyes up your form is practically tangible, no detail hidden from his observation. “I find I think the same of you.”

You huffed a laugh. “You charmer.” Anything else he would have said was replaced by a groan from the back of his throat as you slid forward, rubbing your entrance along the length of his cock. Your knees poked his sides and your thighs sandwiched him, providing cushion, suction, and pressure all at once as you continued to slide along him, back and forth.

When his head caught at your entrance, your breath hitched and you could feel him twitch _hard_ , as though that would be enough to finally be sheathed inside you. His hands curled and uncurled, wrists trembling as he denied them movement despite the priority, the _need_ to touch you, his sensors practically demanding it. “Please,” he whispered.

“Wha – what do you want?” you asked, playful, smirking down at him as you teased him with another almost-breach.

“I want, ah…” he trailed off as his eyes snapped shut, hips stuttering in a stopped attempt at grinding up into you. Then those warm chocolate eyes were on you once more. “Let me touch you. Please.” You slid forward with a smile and nibbled his lips, hand already on his and pulling it between your legs as you rewarded him twice over with another deep kiss.

He didn’t technically _need_ oxygen, just some kind of air flow, and you happily took advantage of that.

His middle finger pressed first, soft, and smooth, and absolutely careful with the hard edge that served as his fingernail. He quirked his finger forward and you hummed, pulling back just enough to tell him, “C’mon, Connor… you don’t have to go slow.” There it was, that grin of yours, equal parts mischief and sheepishness. He could calculate what you were most likely going to tell him based on that look alone, but waited for your permission anyway. “I may have uh… needed a little stress relief before bed. Heh. So c’mon… Give it to me.” As weakly satisfying as masturbating earlier had been, it was certainly providing some convenience now.

Another finger slipped inside you and you shivered, groaning under your breath. Connor’s dexterousness came in handy; he stroked your insides in a come hither motion, his nails never once scraping you. He held you almost reverently, providing support when you went a bit weak in the knees. Your insides quivered around him and he pressed harder, spreading his fingers. You gasped, pressing into his hand. “For f… fuck’s sake, Connor, get on with it!”

Three fingers. He scissored and stroked and prepared you, his cock twitching in anticipation. You were on the good side of frustration, fucking yourself on his fingers, always demanding more and more. A thought set his thirium pumping at high volume. He wouldn’t have to wait much longer, not only for his own pleasure, but to watch you wreck yourself rough, and hard, and without apology.

There was heat in your eyes, city lights reflecting across your face in soft neon and yellow. You had a wild look about you. A bit of sweat clung to your temple and you panted from your mouth, eyes zeroing in on his.

He felt so _alive_.

You pulled off his hand and pressed down on his dick, him adjusting it for you with fingers still slick from your arousal. In one movement he was fully sheathed inside you and you let out a satisfied groan that made his mental processes lag. “ _Finally_ ,” you growled. Human and android hands found one another, grasping tight and offering stability so you could bounce on his cock as you liked. “So damn horny… my stupid fingers aren’t good enough… not the same… as yours… Dildos – nngh – neither! Fuck!!”

Beneath you, Connor keened and almost forgot to breathe again. His cooling systems were chugging like train engines, the sound more noticeable the more he gave as good as he got.

“You like this, right?” you said, panting as you kept up your punishing pace.

“Yes,” he choked.

“You like… when I ride you so hard, I f- fuck! – I feel it the next day. Don’t you?!”

Louder, Connor cried out, “Yes!”

“Good,” you whispered, voice hoarse again as you felt him tremble, his hips stuttering and hands squeezing yours almost painfully. “Me too. Cum for me, Connor… I c-can’t… ngh, unless you…!”

His vocalizer cut out mid-cry, his fingers twitching against yours. You could feel him get bigger inside you right before he popped, warmth flooding in and his eyes rolling back in his head, your own orgasm crashing on the heels of his own. You fell on top of him and your teeth found the juncture of his neck. Both of you rode out the overwhelming feeling together, clinging to one another.

When proverbial stars finally stopped dancing behind his eyelids, Connor seemed to come back online, a hand pulling free to brush up and down your sweaty back. You pulled your teeth from his neck and wiped away the string of saliva that still connected you. Still laying on top of him, you admired your handiwork. Instead of a red flush like human skin, the ring of your bite was almost purple as Connor’s blue blood showed through a little. “I uh –” you coughed, trying to cover up your guilty laugh. “I did it again.”

Connor waved a hand, the motion fanning your back. He was nonplussed, murmuring, “It’s a simple repair.” It didn’t hurt really, and he like the feeling of you smiling into his neck when he said it was fine.

The two of you relaxed, recovering in your own ways. You got your breathing back under control and waited for the trembling to leave your limbs. You smiled as though you were drunk, though a scan would confirm your BAC level was basically null. Connor had an almost dreamy look to him as he rebooted various processes and regained fine motor control.

“Connor?”

“Yes?” he answered. It took a few moments before he heard you reply in a tiny voice.

“…I’m really fucking hungry.”

He couldn’t stop his smile. “You are always hungry.” It was a side effect of your HRT treatment. You had told him a growing boy needs his nourishment, and he supposed that was true, in a way. Almost back to full function, he did a quick search. “There’s a 24-hour diner several blocks away. Can you walk?”

You shifted, feeling it out and extracting yourself from him at the same time. The soreness left a pleasant tingling. If it was going to be a pain, it would be a pain later tomorrow… You glanced at your alarm clock. Er, today. Whatever. “Yeah. Will you go with me?”

He could say yes as he wanted, no as an option for some reason, or… “No,” he answered, grinning at the look on your face that answer caused. You knew better than to take him seriously when he made a face like that but it didn’t stop you from pulling an expression he found humorous. “That was a joke. I wouldn’t let you go by yourself at these hours and in this condition.” Connor pulled himself out of the bed, helping to steady you as you did the same. “Let’s get cleaned up and I will accompany you.”

True to his word, both of you washed away the smell of sex with the help of shampoo and body wash. Then you and he stepped out for pancakes, walking together hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Request me here or at starrstatic.tumblr.com!  
> tyfr! (´• ω •`)ﾉ


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